This is how a road gets made.
Somebody walked on a virgin land.
Someone else saw their tracks and followed them, leaving a path.
It seemed as though I were looking down the hill when I first saw it.
But as I walked on, I realized I was going up.
Somebody whistled behind and turning round, they seemed far below.
Then I came to where there had been a fire and was shaded from the sun by trees.
Figure of eight.
It’s our year.
It always was.
“This Is How A Road…” Duran Duran